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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133640">dizzy, stupid, drunk on you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aglowSycophant/pseuds/aglowSycophant'>aglowSycophant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons &amp; Dragons (Roleplaying Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Borderline Smut, Other, idk how to word it thats what it is, its hard out here for a lad, you know i used to write things that werent just ocs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:22:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,261</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aglowSycophant/pseuds/aglowSycophant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <i>Gale's come undone, hair messy and breeze billowing, anxiety an afterthought, second-place to nothing but want and lust and pleasure, and It can't help but feel the same. Gods, she's so pretty. Beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, whatever; Gale is Gale and gods - gods - It wants more. More than what they have. They can't control themself anymore. Not when Gale's right here, not when Gale's so desperate, not when their name sounds so right on her lips.</i>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>It was supposed to be a kiss goodnight.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original D&amp;D Character(s)/Original D&amp;D Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dizzy, stupid, drunk on you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gale is, first and foremost, incredibly tiny –  a fact that becomes increasingly apparent as she straddles them – was this what their goodnight kiss was supposed to be? They dismiss the thought immediately – don’t think too much of it, they tell themself.</p><p>She leans in a bit, cupping their face in her hands, and slowly kisses them. They let their eyes lid shut, relishing in the softness of her lips. She's gorgeous, most importantly – so <em>stunning</em> that it’s something heavenly, like they've got a little piece of it above them – and when she breaks the kiss, they kiss her again, just as slow, and it’s just as wonderful as the last time.  Above them, It hears – or, feels, really – a small noise. Quiet, faint, barely audible, but it’s enough to make them kiss her again after that one.</p><p>Gale has very nice lips, they muse to themself, kissing her again. They’re soft. Yielding. Warm. So unbelievably warm – maybe it’s a genasi thing and they run hot. Maybe it’s been so long since It’s kissed anyone that they've forgotten what it’s like. Whatever the reason, they want more – they <em> need </em> it, even – and they kiss her again, a bit less gently, and the moan she lets out makes their head spin.</p><p>Some part of It distantly wonders about professionalism. Another larger part decides that professionalism is overrated.</p><p>Their hands have settled around her waist, holding her securely – and distantly, It wishes Gale were a bit less dressed so that they could really feel her. It’s not a firm grip – she could escape easily, if she wanted – but still, it's about intent, and nothing more, and, passingly, nothing more than an idle thought, It thinks of Gale as nothing less than <em> theirs </em>. </p><p>It kisses her again, much more roughly – each noise she makes is melodic, small gasps and moans and gentle cries – yet this elicits a louder noise, a proper moan, and that’s all the encouragement It needs. Without thinking, they let their teeth graze her lip, and Gale lets out a whine. They briefly remember that how, in this one book they read, a character showed the other how to properly kiss, and with those memories swimming in their head, their tongue swipes over her lip and––   </p><p>A shuddering groan clambers out from Gale's throat as they fully yield to It, lips parting as their tongue slips inside. That dull hunger they felt now grows into craving – a dark, hungering craving for Gale and Gale alone – and the warmth, the <em> heat </em> of her mouth is simultaneously too much and so <em> little </em> . They want more, they decide as they kiss her ravenously, and, at the keening cry they swallow, realizes they need more. More than water, more than air; It needs <em> Gale </em> and the realization is dizzying. </p><p>It’s sweet, it’s bliss, it’s warmth, it’s <em> Gale </em>, and no one else. The thought of that makes them very happy for whichever reason. She gasps into their mouth, breathes out a shuddering, breathless moan that melts into their tongue, and It lets out a dull growl. Gale breaks the kiss, out of breath, staying connected still through strands of spit. </p><p>“It,” she breathes out quietly, panting. “I––I don’t, um––I swear I don’t want you t… To stop, I’m––Let me catch my breath. You… You too, you need to breathe…”</p><p>With carnivorous intent, It licks their lips and nods. Words are hard right now. Words escape them. The only thought on their mind is Gale, and only Gale, and their lungs hurt, yes, but that’s alright – breathing is a secondary function when it comes to Gale, after all, and the feel of her flesh is heavenly, and they miss it, crave it, need it... </p><p>It plants a small kiss on the corner of her mouth, trailing down to her jawline and lower still, till they're hunched over her, till they're kissing her neck and feeling her pulse. And each throb, each heartbeat, makes their head spin, makes their heart race, and soon they're kissing her neck recklessly, letting their teeth scratch and scrape, trying not to break skin. She swallows shallowly, but they can feel it, and the dull beating of her heart drums into their lips. Gently, they nip her, still not enough to break, but enough to send a message, so they hope. Yet, the taste of her flesh makes their face hot, makes their head spin, makes their lips and tongue and mouth and brain demand more, and so they messily kiss a trail back up, not caring if they scratch her, not caring if she bleeds, and It kisses her again.</p><p>It flips the two of them, hair falling in droves around the two of them, a curtain from the rest of the world. Good. Good. Gale's theirs, they think, head spinning, thoughts cloudy. Gale's theirs, they insist, licking feverishly at the inside of her mouth before biting her bottom lip and groaning in response to the sharp moan she lets out, fingers curling in their hair. Dizzily, stupidly, It bites her neck, tasting blood and drawing their tongue along it, following instinct and nothing else. Another patch gets the same treatment; down towards her collar where everyone should see is a hickey, and It kisses each mark better.</p><p>"Fuck," Gale whines, voice strained. It thinks they don't like it when people swear, but it feels right, right now.</p><p>Dirty, stupid, drunk on you.</p><p>They kiss her again, swallow her next moan. It's rough, it's crude, it's animalistic – distantly, It remembers being gentle, and It can't find it in them to care. Gale's precious, Gale's tiny, Gale's small; Gale's something to break and ruin and destroy, something soft and special and––  </p><p> "It," she moans, muffled by their lips, by their tongue. Something like a desperate cry, something that's their name and something more, something that's a desperate wish, and no, It thinks, they can't leave her wanting, can't leave her unsatisfied, so It obliges and they kiss her again and again and again, till there's nothing more on their mind but Gale and Gale only, until their lungs are screaming and their lips are bruised. </p><p>Gale's come undone, hair messy and breeze billowing, anxiety an afterthought, second-place to nothing but want and lust and pleasure, and It can't help but feel the same. Gods, she's so pretty. Beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, whatever; Gale is Gale and gods - <em> gods </em> - It wants more. More than what they have. They can't control themself anymore. Not when Gale's right here, not when Gale's so desperate, not when their name sounds so <em> right </em> on her lips. </p><p>So It pulls away, panting, because this has gotten just a bit out of hand.</p><p> They sit there silent for a bit, eyes trained on one another. Waiting. Waiting for proximity. Waiting for something. </p><p>"We should," It says eventually, gently stroking locks of hair from her face, "Go to bed."</p><p>"I'm," Gale starts, and stops. Her face is dark. Her eyes are dark. It hopes she wants them even half as much as they do. "Yeah. Okay."</p><p>"Do you want," It says, "Something to drink?" </p><p>"Water, maybe," she answers after a long pause. The way she looks at them, It feels like nothing more than meat. </p><p><em> I really want to fuck you, </em> It thinks but doesn't say. </p><p>"Water, right," they say instead, slowly getting off her. "I'll get you some. Water. I'll be back." </p><p>"Okay," she says, like she doesn't want them to leave. After a pause, Gale says, “Bye.”</p><p>And, waiting in the doorway, It watches her and mumbles, “Bye.”</p>
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